Woman Out of Time
by DracoAura
Summary: Verrah suddenly wakes up in a different time. She thought she was searching for one thing. Turns out, she's actually searching for something else. Something she had been missing in her previous life. But what does she end up finding, when it's all said and done? Family? Love? Revenge? Perhaps all of the above. One thing she knows for sure: she's in for one heck of an abnormal ride.
1. Chapter 1

Everything was black. Consciousness came slowly. As if her brain thawed out. Verrah's ice blue eyes fluttered open. Eyelids stiff. She could hardly breathe as the pod opened its hatch. A loud hiss escaped. Her vision took time focusing through the steam. It finally cleared, and she stumbled forward. Every joint rebelling against her brain's wishes. She could barely stand, much less hold herself above the floor.

Her arms trembled. Everything trembled. The frost covering her body slowly melted. She still couldn't breathe. There was plenty of air, but her lungs wouldn't fully expand. They had been used to almost no movement. She continuously coughed. Strained for the air. The thick air, damp with the released cold and underground atmosphere. Her head slightly lifted. Was she still underground? She didn't know.

Once Verrah gained enough strength, she dragged herself to her feet. Her knees wobbled, but she managed to stay upright. Turned to face the pod she came from. What on Earth? She inspected the lines and hoses feeding from the back to the large, yellow generator at the end of a row of the pods. Frost covered the surfaces. Freezing? She returned to the control panel in front of her pod.

 **[CRYOGENIC SYSTEM MALFUNCTION. EMERGENCY RELEASE PROTOCOL ENGAGED.]** was all it read. Flashed, really. Her heart raced. Cryogenic freezing? She had been frozen alive? She whirled to the pod right of hers. The control panel flashed **[CRYOGENIC SYSTEM MALFUNCTION. EMERGENCY RELEASE PROTOCOL MALFUNCTION. LIFE READINGS TERMINATED.]** She wiped the condensation from the pod glass. A dead body nested inside. Rushing to the next one, she checked inside. Dead. Next one. Dead. Every single one was dead.

She stood in the middle of the chamber. Arms limp by her side. Everyone was dead. She knew all these people by name. The whole town didn't sign up for the protection from the bombs, but she still knew everyone. What happened? Why were they all gone except her? Her gaze shifted to the nearest control panel. And why did her pod open now?

Her jaw set. There was only one way to find out. Moving forward. She mourned the loss of the lives, but they wouldn't help her. With a final glance around, she quietly left the cryo chamber. They were definitely still underground. This was the same Vault they ran to when the bombs fell. Except everything was dull, fading. A startling contrast to her vibrant blue Vault suit.

How long had they been frozen? Five, ten years? Twenty, at max, certainly. She didn't think the human body could last longer than that. Shoot, she didn't think cryo freezing was possible. Her feet clanked along the metal floors as she crept down a hall. It was the only sound. It was silent. Too silent. Shouldn't there be doctors running around? Scientist? Vault-Tech workers? Somebody?

Verrah found the nearest room. Tripped upon entering and fell to the floor. Face to face with a skeleton in a lab coat. She screamed as she scrambled to her feet. Placed a hand on her chest. Poked the bones with a boot. No, it wasn't coming alive. She looked around the room. Nothing but data littered the desks.

Picking up a piece of paper, she briefly skimmed the sentences. Experiments? Test subjects? She stashed it in her pocket. Her eyes widened when she saw a paper with her name as a header. Cautiously lifted it to view. Highlighted were the phrases "mystical properties," "unknown physical properties," "possible bridge to the future," and "further testing required." Blinking, she stashed it in her pocket, too. She would have to come back to that. There were still no signs of life.

She continued her search. Came across another cryo chamber. Once again, everyone in the pods were dead. Skeletal assistants littered the floor. Still in their lab coats and faded Vault-Tech suits. Her nose scrunched. So much death. So much death in this Vault. She came across a large storage room. Smiled at the weapons inside.

"Jackpot."

Procuring a 10MM pistol, she examined and loaded it. It seemed like in working enough condition. She grabbed a utility belt. Holstered the pistol. Filled all her pockets with as much ammo as they allowed. Confiscated another gun and loaded it as well. This one, she kept in her hands. She didn't know what was out there.

As she wound her way through the Vault, she discovered one thing that was out there. A strange sound made her poke her head in a room. Inside was a cockroach the side the size of a small dog. Sweat formed on her palms. When it faced her, she screamed and unloaded the pistol until it died. Her nose scrunched at the yellow-tinted guts oozing onto the floor. Then she froze again, not daring to look around. Were there giant spiders, too? Because she did not want to face one of those.

Her skin crawled. She wasn't sticking around to find out. Sprinting now, she found her way to the main area. The area she had first seen upon exiting the platform that delivered them to their underground salvation. She gazed at the dilapidated area in wonder. Everything seemed so promising when they initially submerged. She remembered it all clearly. That fateful day.

She had been underneath her nuclear-powered car, chatting with Codsworth about a guy who wouldn't leave her alone while tinkering. She had formulated a plan involving flying wrenches when the sirens blared. The sirens indicating atomic bombs. She remembered rolling out from beneath her car. Remembered yelling at her Mr. Handy, that faithful robot. Remembered running to the Vault on the hill. There were so many families running, trying to save what they could. So much screaming.

Once a guard had checked the list, she remembered being directed to the platform. Remembered looking back and seeing all the people who wouldn't be saved just because their name wasn't on a piece of paper. They were stuck behind a simple chain link fence. Faces carved with horror and desperation. She wanted to help them. Wanted everyone to be safe.

Then it came. A flash of light streaked south. A rumble of the bomb hitting. They could see the fiery mushroom cloud without a problem, though none knew where it exactly landed. Next came the roar of the shockwave berating them with debris. She remembered shielding her face as the platform lowered. Lowered them into their new home. But how could it have been home? She couldn't save Codsworth. Machines weren't allowed in the Vaults.

The present Verrah gazed at the platform. Blinking away tears. So much for home. Everyone was frozen. Worse. Everyone was dead. Never had a chance to live. Pivoting, she recognized an outfit out of the corner of her eye. It was the body of the head of Vault 111. The one assigned to make sure everything went smoothly. Her grip tightened on the 10MM. How could they? How could they keep them from living?

She took a stance and fired. Hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Letting bullets fly into the skull. "How could you do such a thing? How could you turn us into experiments? How could you let so many die just because they didn't fill out your dumb form? We all trusted you!"

Her rage shooting continued until her second gun clicked when she pulled the trigger. The skull had all but been turned to dust. She angrily wiped the tears from her face. The adrenaline starting to subside. Taking a deep breath, she noticed the skeleton's hardware.

A Pip-Boy 3000 and a Holding Pack. Vault-Tech's latest aside from the Vaults themselves. "I'll be taking these, thank you." She ripped the devices off, tossing aside the bones. Slipped her own arms through the backpack straps. Snapped the Pip-Boy around her left wrist. The green screen flickered to life. This was her ticket out.

She looked back at the platform. Fully faced it. Her nostrils flared with another breath. She had no idea what it was like up there. It may very well be she was the only human left. Honestly, she was scared. She reloaded both pistols. One more deep breath, and she stepped up to the control panel. She unplugged the port from the Pip-Boy and inserted it. Entered the proper commands.

Loud cracks, creaks, and moans followed. The old metal was not happy at being awoken. She swallowed. After a few more echoing protests, the gate slid open. The platform was revealed. More swallowing. She hesitated. Then stepped onto the platform. Nothing happened at first. Then it jerked with a groan. She held out her arms to keep from falling. Began rising.

Her head tilted up. The door to freedom rested above her. But would it be freedom? Her old life would never return. Her new life would never be the same. She may not even live that long. There would be no home like the one she had before. She didn't even know if she would be able to breathe the air. Once she was exposed, she may die immediately. Her limbs tingled in anticipation.

There was a piercing hiss. A deafening crack. The Vault door unsealed. Platform gradually slowing. Hopping out her nerves a bit, she rolled her neck. A final crack. The large door slid away. Platform coming to a full halt. Intense light flooded her eyes, making her shield her face with an arm. She could breathe. That was a good start. Her vision finally adjusted. Almost afraid to look, she lowered her arm.


	2. Chapter 2

Before Verrah, resided the fallout. A barren landscape filled with dead trees, gnarly underbrush, and very little variety in color. The sky even seemed to be a different shade of blue. Everything was bland, dreary. And dirt. Lots of dirt. Rusted remains of the bustle from the day the bombs fell were scattered.

She turned to the broken fence that had kept so many people away. Skeletons littered the ground.

There were still no signs of life. The air was silent. She sighed. Not even any animals called.

Her jaw set. Then her eyes widened. She could see her old neighborhood from this vantage point. Though, what she saw didn't look good. She took off down the hill. Suddenly overcome with concern for her household robot. Overcome with the fact that he could have been destroyed.

Tearing through the bare, wooded shortcut, she deftly avoided rocks and fallen trees. This wasn't the first time she had run through these woods. All she could think of was Codsworth. Not Codsworth. But who would've taken care of him if he malfunctioned? Kept him oiled and polished? Listened to him carry on about what he saw on TV or heard on the radio? He couldn't be gone.

But at the same time, he very well could be.

She exploded from the trees. Hung a right. Her boots crunched on the pitted road. She slowed to a walk when she came to the bridge. What was left of the bridge, rather. Cautiously, she stepped into what was supposed to have been the perfect subdivision on the hill. A perfect sanctuary away from life. She swallowed. All the houses were nearly destroyed.

The road took her up and slightly right. Her house was halfway up on the left. Her lips pressed together. What had been a nice home for a single woman was falling apart. However, it was in slightly better condition than the others. That great House of Tomorrow. Her beloved car still sat under the carport, rusted and unsalvageable.

A deep breath escaped her as she went inside. Stood in the middle of the living room. Making a circle to take everything in, tears brimmed her eyes. She put a hand over her mouth. Dared to venture through the rest. Everything was destroyed. Bathroom, laundry room, office, and bedroom. She kept her hand over her mouth as she returned to the kitchen. The calendar still hung on the side of the fridge.

On the month of October.

It was seeing the circled date of her parents' anniversary that pushed her over the edge. She couldn't dam the tears any longer. Trotting out of the house, she sunk the front porch step. What did she expect? For everything to be exactly the same? A nuclear bomb had fallen for crying out loud!

She just didn't expect the reality to hit her so hard. Her head buried in her arms. She was all alone.

"Hello, Mum!" It was the pleasant British accent of a Mr. Handy.

Verrah slowly lifted her head up. Tears streaking her face. "Codsworth?" She ran to him in the middle of the road, hugging as much of his round body as she could. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"Ah, it really is you. I almost didn't recognize you with your hair colored so."

She frowned. "My hair?" Then she ran back inside to the bathroom mirror. It wasn't a clear reflection, but she could make out that her once dirty blonde hair had been turned pure white with a wide, lime green streak going down the middle of her head and ponytail.

Her mouth opened. Closed. "Well." Her head slightly tilted. Did this have to do with the experiments the Vault had been conducting? Did it have to do with any mystical properties? She smiled for the sake of the Mr. Handy that had hovered in after her. "I've always wanted to do something to my hair. I can dig it."

"I'm just happy you're finally home." He backed into the living room. "I must say it has been rather dreary. I've kept house to the best of my abilities."

"Codsworth."

"Do you know how hard it is to vacuum radiation out of the carpet? Not to mention there's a gaping hole in the roof. And you can only polish rust so much."

"Codsworth—"

"But I can do more than polishing! A raider or two have kept me company. I've been protecting Sanctuary Hills. I was so worried when you didn't return. I knew you were safe, but I thought you would've returned sooner. Well, now you have. My patience for 200 years has paid off. That's all that matters, I suppose."

Verrah chuckled at his ramblings. Then blanked as his words set in. "Did you…did you say 200 years?"

The Mr. Handy slightly bounced up and down. His way of nodding. "Two hundred and ten years to be exact."

Rubbing her temple with the heel of her palm, she dropped onto the deteriorating couch. "What on Earth? That long? Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Wow. Um, okay?" She shook her head. "Has anyone else come from the Vault?"

"No, Mum."

She sighed. "Didn't think so. Everyone was pretty much dead in there. Wait." Her eyes lifted as she rose. "You mentioned raiders. So, I'm not the only human left?"

"Of course not." He hovered to the kitchen. Pulled open the cabinets. "There are many settlements. Especially the closer you get to Boston. I've been storing food for you. Unfortunately, it's not much. Only Cram and Mac 'N' Cheese. Would you like some?"

"No, thanks. I'm not exactly hungry right now."

"Very well, Mum. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her hands together. "Have you heard anything about my parents? Since that day? Any word?"

Codsworth's tone softened, and his arms drooped a little. "No, Mum. I'm sorry. But chin up! If you can survive, I'm sure they can, too."

She offered a smile. Hugged him again. "I always knew I could rely on you for support."

"There is a man I heard about on the radio. His name is Detective Nick Valentine. He might be able to help you find your parents. He's famous."

Her head slightly nodded in thought. "Maybe I could seek him out. Where is he?"

The household robot went about polishing the refrigerator as he answered. "Diamond City."

"Diamond City? Where is that?"

"Why, it's in the old Fenway Park Stadium."

She mused for a few moments. "I mean…" Sighing, she paced the living room and kitchen. She highly doubted they were alive. Wasn't even getting her hopes up on that one. Two hundred and ten years was well beyond normal life expectancy. Not to mention the war. On the other hand, it would give her something to do. Also see more of this new world.

"Mum?"

"You know what? I think I will look this Detective Valentine up." She finally stood still and rubbed her arms. Yes, she was twenty four—or was she now 234?—but her parents meant a lot to her. They were all she had outside of Codsworth. "Thanks, Cods."

"You're welcome, Mum. You're handy with machinery. Do you have any idea how to get this rust out?"

Verrah chuckled. "I'm afraid the fallout is probably there to stay." Then she slightly turned away. Inhaled deeply as she looked out the front window. Two hundred and ten years? How in the world was she still alive? And how did her hair drastically change colors? Nothing made any sense.

The Mr. Handy hovered over. Paused at his owner's silence. And unusually depressed behavior. She seemed distressed, despite the good news she was still alive and returned home. His three eyes adjusted. "Is everything alright?"

Another deep breath escaped her. "I'm not sure. It's quite a bit to take in."

"How soon would you like to leave? If you're leaving, that is."

Biting her lip, she glanced over her shoulder at him.


	3. Chapter 3

Verrah's boots crunched on the asphalt. Her eyes scanned her surroundings as the sun began its decent to the horizon. She certainly felt like the only human left. Pistol in her hands, she kept every sense up. She didn't want to be taken off-guard. Though she felt comforted with her largest wrench strapped to the outside of her right thigh.

She threw a glance to make sure it was still there. Measuring the length of her thigh and weighing at least eight pounds, if the wrench had fallen off, she would know. But she couldn't help feeling paranoid. She was a stranger in a strange land. Even with the directions Codsworth provided on her Pip-Boy.

Codsworth. She insisted he remained at home. Someone needed to protect Sanctuary Hills. And he was her only link to this world. Pausing, she looked behind her. Should she have brought him along?

Probably.

Too late for that, now.

She suddenly brightened upon seeing a crimson rocket towering into the sky. Trotted to her old job establishment. The truck stop had seen its better days, certainly, but she was happy to see it still standing. Maybe this world wouldn't be so strange, after all.

A bark came from inside, and a German shepherd stepped out.

Verrah stopped. Smiled. "Hey, boy." She knelt down. "Are you friendly?"

The dog sat down in the garage doorway. Sniffed the air. After a few more nose twitches, he rose and lumbered over. Tongue flopping out.

Laughing, she held a hand out for him to sniff. Then petted him when he was fully comfortable. She checked for a collar or identification of any kind but didn't find any.

The shepherd placed his front paws on her legs and licked her face.

"Okay, okay, okay." She gently pushed him off. Rose. "Do you belong to someone?" Looking around, she didn't see anyone. "Is this your home?" She began forward.

The dog suddenly growled in alarm as mounds of dirt moved and exploded open.

Verrah's eyes widened. Large, hairless creatures with bucked teeth screeched, pouncing toward her. "What the crap are those?!" She unloaded a clip, but the new threats were too quick. Ran for the safety of the Red Rocket.

But one followed her inside. She pulled the trigger, gun clicking in response. "Oh, screw this." Tossing the pistol aside, she unsheathed her wrench. Bludgeoned the creature to death.

She finally calmed her heavy breathing. Put the giant tool back in its holster. "Always knew that thing would come in handy in regards to self-defense. Now, what are you?" She nudged the fleshy body with a boot. Squatted and inspected it closer. A giant naked mole rat? Appeared that way. She shook her head.

Radiation.

Her ice blue eyes scanned the inside of the garage she punched into every Monday through Friday, with the exception of government holidays. Set hours, nice pay. Doing what she loved to do. It wasn't a bad gig. No siree.

In all honesty, not much had changed. Her work toolbox, machining station, and workbench were all in the same place. What looked to be a chemical mixing station had been added. Though she wasn't sure why someone would put something so volatile in an old truck stop that had radioactive material in it before the war. Perhaps someone had a death wish. Or was stupid. Or maybe she was just stupid.

But in the middle of the far garage wall was a bright yellow stand. She searched it up and down, clearly impressed by the addition. For months, she had thought the garage had been missing something. Clearly, it was missing a power armor station. A grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. What she would have given to get her hands on one of those armor suits before the war.

She recalled the sign outside before meeting the dog. It still read the price of 113 dollars and ninety nine cents. The highest that prices had ever been. Her head shook. Maybe the war was a good thing. Otherwise, they most likely would've had to find new resources. The crisis for resources had been growing rather severe.

However, she did more than just replenish coolant. She kept the cars maintained, as well as the trucks. A gentler smile overcame her as she recounted chatting with the truckers, as she pretended to be interested in gossip from her regulars. She knew so much about the people of Concord and surrounding areas by just listening to customers as she turned wrenches.

The memories elicited a chuckle. Most of the time, she knew more than she desired. And every single elderly woman tried hooking her up with someone new every time they came. How dare she be twenty four and not be married. She swore they came in only to patronize her. A heavy sigh escaped her.

A vicious snarl suddenly brought her back to the present.

She remembered where she was, what had happened, and the dog outside with the hairless creatures.

Grabbing the 10MM off the floor, she trotted outside. "Hey—" She stopped herself upon seeing the shepherd sitting among six dead mole rats. Glanced back at the one she killed inside the garage. Obviously, the dog was more adept to this wasteland.

Sighing again, she realized the canine was much better at survival than she was. If he was a stray, she wondered if she could get him to follow her. She scanned the area again. The place seemed deserted. "Do you have an owner, boy?"

The dog's tongue disappeared into his mouth, and his head tilted.

She knelt back onto one leg. "Would you like to come with me?" She knew he couldn't understand her every word, but she took him licking her face as a yes. "Okay, okay." She laughed. "I suppose you wouldn't know how to get to Diamond City, huh?"

He barked and ran to the road. Waited for her to follow.

"Wow. Okay…that was a joke." She started after him when he disappeared around the bend. "Hey! Wait up." Breaking into a run, she found him sitting in the middle of the old T-intersection.

Though the stoplights remained standing, they were rusted and broken. Ill testaments to what happened to life during the war. Many of the once-beautiful trees were collapsed. Everything was barren. An unsalvageable car sat on the side of the road, stuck through the shoulder barrier.

She took a deep breath again. All the more reminder of the desolate world she now resided in. Her eyes traveled down the road. Faint buildings emerged in the remaining light. It took her a few moments, but she knew what town this was.

Concord.

So many people she knew here….

Gunshots startled her before she could think of more depressing thoughts. Loading her pistol, she looked down at the dog.

He barked again and took off down the road, straight ahead of them.

Verrah's head slightly tilted. Was he really leading her into a battle? Sprinting after him again, she tried to keep her head down. Not knowing where the shots came from. She was led into the heart of the town, but before she entered it, she crouched behind the shell of a car. "Hey," she whispered harshly.

Thankfully, the dog came back to her. Keeping low as she did.

"What do you think you're doing? We can't just walk into the middle of a fire fight. Especially blind." Peeking over the top of the car, she did her best to gauge the situation.

It appeared that one gang was held up in the museum, and another gang fought from the streets and neighboring buildings. Both sides appeared to have snipers. Were they rival gangs fighting over territory? Was this a classic case of good versus evil? Regardless, they were all human. At least, that she could tell.

A laser beam streaked across the street from the Museum of Freedom.

Her eyes widened.

But did she even get involved? Whose side did she take? Did she even pick a side? Was she really supposed to intervene? There were quite a few on both sides. This could very well be a death trap for her.

She looked back at the dog. "What do you think?" Sighed when he only whimpered and settled on his paws. "So you don't know either, huh? Well, this is just fabulous. You led me to a battle, and you don't even know what side to be on."

"Who goes there?"

Verrah suddenly stiffened and put a finger over her lips. Pressed herself against the car and held the pistol up by her ear.

The voice carried out once more. "Aw, come on, you can trust me."

She highly doubted she could trust the man who called for her to reveal herself. His voice held sarcasm and hinted at pleasure of finding her and killing her.

The dog lifted his head, ears twitching back and forth. He rose to his four paws but stayed concealed behind the vehicle.

A man in makeshift armor rounded the front of the car. "There you are!"

Before Verrah had time to react, he fired his rifle at her.


	4. Chapter 4

The bullet embedded itself in Verrah's left side.

The German shepherd's ears laid flat. Barking and snarling, he attacked the assailant.

Verrah's eyes widened, and she gasped for air. She looked down where blood dripped from her side, staining her pristine Vault suit. Her chest heaved with breaths. From both shock and pain.

This was the first time she had ever been shot. And she did not enjoy the white-hot sensation.

Her head rolled over to see the man hitting the dog with the butt of his rifle. Teeth gritted and right hand over her wound, she raised her pistol. Steadied her breathing best she could. Closed her right eye. She took a deep breath, and on the exhale, she fired.

The attacker grunted and dropped. With a distance of only six to seven feet from the gun, and only a thin metal breastplate protecting him, the bullet struck his chest and rendered him deceased.

The shepherd sniffed the body a bit then trotted over, tongue hanging out again.

She let her arm fall. Sat back against the car.

And now she killed her first person. However, she didn't feel like she speculated she would when this fateful day came. In fact, she felt normal. No different than she was before. What did that say about her personality? Did that make her a bad person? But her dad used to tell her it's sometimes necessary to kill for survival.

The dog barked and nudged her hand covering her wound.

Verrah looked at him. "What?" Then she looked at her side. The blood had stopped flowing. Her head slightly tilted. She sucked air through her teeth as her flesh felt like it moved.

Studying her side again, her eyes widened. Her muscles mended themselves. Slowly pushing out the bullet. Her skin repaired itself. Appeared completely normal. The only thing that gave away being injured was the small tear in the stained blue suit.

The pain was gone. Just like that. She felt the same as before she got shot. Her breathing quickened. What on earth?

What did they do to her in that Vault?

Her eyes remained wide as she slowly turned to the dog. She could heal herself? When did that become a thing? It was from the Vault, wasn't it? The technicians with their "mystical properties" crap. So it was true, then? Though, it didn't explain why they dyed her hair. Not that she was going to complain about anything.

But why would those at Vault-Tec give her healing abilities? How did they even give her those abilities? It wasn't like magic existed. Though, she couldn't come up with any science to back up what just happened to her. Then again, she couldn't come up with the science to explain how she was the only one who survived being cryogenically frozen for two hundred and ten years.

Nostrils flaring, she searched the ground. Wondering if any Vault-Tec personnel were still alive. It seemed strange that all of them were dead. Why wouldn't they preserve their own? Was there a Vault somewhere filled with the workers? Were they laughing and celebrating while everything around them crumbled?

The rise in anger made her instincts finally kick in. She drilled the dog. "We're getting into that museum." Reaching out, she grabbed the dead man's foot and dragged his body behind the car. Removed his armor, even the holed chest plate and strapped it on herself. Picked up his rifle.

Once she inspected it, she set it aside and rummaged through the guy's pockets. Found .308 ammo to go with the hunting rifle, two stimpaks, and a handful of bottle caps. She took the ammo and stimpaks. Surprised to see the stimulation aid still around. Her brows furrowed at the bottle caps, and she left them.

Night had completely fallen.

Using stealth to her advantage, she advanced. The dog on her heels. The first two people were easily picked off; they were separated from the rest of the group. However, she knew that sniper would be a problem. For the time being, he was occupied with the people in the museum. That was good.

Verrah peeked out from behind the pile of rubble she hid behind. She had one grenade she looted off a body. Eyed the sniper. Whether or not this faction needed to be killed, they had shot her and beat the dog. She gauged the distance from her to the sniper. She needed a clearer line for a good throw.

Motioning out to the group on the ground, she whispered to the dog. "Go get 'em." Watched the shepherd eagerly take off. Watched to see who he attacked. He went for the ones who wore the same makeshift armor as the man who shot her. The ones that were all in the same faction together. Those that were defending the museum, the dog left alone. Seemed to protect, even.

Animals were hardly ever wrong about who were the bad guys and who were the good guys.

Then she crept about some more. Her eyes brightened when she saw the building the sniper perched on left open. Maybe she wouldn't need the grenade. Pistol in hand, she sprinted across the street.

A shadow in the night.

Her 10MM led the way as she entered the building. Head on a swivel and ears tuned. It was hard not making noise in the creaky building, but all the gunfire outside covered her. She dashed up the stairs. Slowing before she reached the top level. She kept her breathing silent. Adjusted her grip on the pistol.

Psyching herself up, she leaned around the corner. The sniper's back was to her. She secured her stance. Lined up a head shot. Taking a last breath, she squeezed the trigger.

The sniper tumbled forward, down to the ground.

Smiling to herself, she ran back down the stairs. Noticed that the faction held up in the museum had emerged. They weren't armored like the others. She made a break for the museum, running inside and catching her breath.

This was certainly an eventful first day of being brought back to life, essentially.

A man in a patched, tan trench coat and a brown hat approached her with a rather science fiction-looking gun and an extremely happy grin. "You took out that sniper, didn't you?

"Yeah." She eyed his glowing red firearm.

"That helps us greatly. He was picking us off like flies. My name is Preston Garvey, and we're the Minutemen. Or what's left of the Minutemen. You may not have heard of us, but we've made it our mission to drive the raiders out of the Commonwealth."

Verrah gave a nod. So the faction outside was the same one that Codsworth had problems with before? Now she was glad she chose to fight them. "My name is Verrah. I'm from…around."

Preston shifted his weight and smiled. "Nice to meet you. Would you be interested in helping us further? This has been what you might consider a last stand. We've lost so many lives. We could certainly use another on our side."

She shrugged. Why not? "I've learned it's best to help those in need."

"Exactly. Here's what I would like for you to do. On the roof, there's a suit of power armor and a crashed Vertibird. It should still have a minigun attached. If it's salvageable, you can use it. When the next wave of raiders come, we can really give it to them."

Preston had her at power armor. She had always wanted to get her hands on a suit. Even if they had been for advanced military purposes. "You got it."

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You have no idea what this means for the Minutemen. Here's a fusion core I obtained. None of us have been able to get up there because of that sniper. Godspeed, friend."

She took the core with a nod. Grinned to herself as she clambered through all the destruction of the museum. She didn't have time to reflect on the historic building because her mind was set on the armor. There was nothing she wanted more at the moment.

Opening the roof hatch, she went back outside. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the helicopter. It seemed to have been there awhile. Maybe not before the war as it looked "new," but it hadn't just crashed, either. Then she saw the suit standing outside of the Vertibird. It wasn't a complete suit of power armor, missing some of the outer leg and arm pieces, but it was power armor nonetheless.

Sure, she had just met these Minutemen. And yes, the only thing she knew about them was that they wanted to drive out the raiders. It did strike her as odd that Preston Garvey trusted her so easily, but maybe he was just a good judge of character. Whichever the case, he just gave her access to one of her long-time wishes.

Eyes glittering, she inserted the fusion core. Her nerves tingled as she turned the back valve. All but dancing when it hissed open. She pulled herself in with almost reverence. Giggling when the suit closed around her and the display lit up inside the helmet. Stepped back in a defensive stance, fists high. "Aw, yeah."

She marched over to the Vertibird and ripped off the minigun with her newfound strength. Looked over her shoulder at the building's edge. These things were supposed to absorb all fall damage. She was about to test that claim.

Minigun in both hands, she ran to edge of the building and jumped off. "Woo!" Landed on the battleground with a massive thud and enough force to off-balance everyone. She primed the rotary machine gun. Maybe she could get used this new world, after all. "Who wants a piece of this?"

But the reverberations of her landing awoke something within the ground. Directly down the road from her, a large grate shot off the decrepit pavement. A roar echoing through the night made raiders and Minutemen alike pause. What looked like a drake roared again and sprinted for the humans.

Verrah's heart stopped, and the breath was taken from her lungs. "What the—"

The minigun began firing its rapid succession of rounds.


	5. Chapter 5

Raiders and Minutemen alike yelled and scrambled in the opposite direction of the beast.

Verrah heaved the minigun toward the monster. Only to realize she drew its attention to her. Eyes widening, she stepped back a few paces. Then turned around and ran, taking her hand off the trigger and holding the mini gun close to her.

The drake-like creature flung aside anyone in its way. Stopped in the middle of what had been an intense fire fight and roared.

The Vault dweller took advantage of its brief pause, lugging the rotary machine gun back toward the creature. Sending more rounds into its body. Screeching when it turned to her again. She kept firing this time. Even as she clunked backwards in the heavy power armor.

The beast moved from staggering on its hind legs to galloping on all four. Honed in on what was causing it the most pain. With a piercing roar and reared head, it swiped Verrah off her feet.

She rattled around in her power armor. Eyes closed and teeth gritted. Extremely thankful for the extra protection. She ended up on her back, her grip tightening on the minigun. While she was disoriented, she knew enough to cease fire during the rag-dolling. And to prime the gun again for the shape bearing down on her.

Yelling with determination, she aimed the rotary machine gun on the creature's underbelly. Not giving up for anything. Her heart wanted to pound out of her chest, but she wanted to keep the organ beating. And she did not like being cornered.

The minigun glowed at this point. Smoke rising from the rapidly spinning barrels. But the rounds flew.

The horned monster pushed forward. Slashing at the air, roaring in defiance.

Verrah held the gun steady. Still on her back. Sweating and waiting to be ripped from her power armor in a bloody mess. Waiting to be chewed to bits and digested in the beast's stomach.

The creature threw one last hand full of talons up into the air before collapsing atop the minigun.

She didn't even have the energy to grunt when it fell on her. Not even when the scaly head flopped beside hers. Her own head dropped back, and she released a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Heart rate not decreasing. She breathed deep a few times, doing her best to steady it.

The Minutemen were able to finish off the last of the raiders. Rushed to her aid. Working together, they yanked the drake off her.

Preston Garvey ran out of the museum, followed closely by the German shepherd. "Are you alright?"

Verrah lifted a thumbs up then let her arm fall back to the ground. Still out of breath. "Uh…lemme, lemme get back to you on that." But she soon forced herself to her feet so she could at least get out of the suit of armor.

When she stepped out, she stumbled. Clearly shaken.

Thankfully, Preston caught her. He shook his head. "Man, I don't know who you are, but you sure have impeccable timing. We all would have been dead if it wasn't for you."

She offered a worn-out grin. "Thanks. And, uh, you're welcome, I guess? I'm just glad that thing is dead."

An older woman in a faded teal jacket and unique turban approached. She chuckled. "Back when I was a youth, I once killed these creatures with a single shot. Without the fancy power armor and minigun. But a job well done."

The African-American sighed, making sure the Vault dweller was okay to be released and adjusting his grip on the laser musket. "This is Mama Murphey. She claims to see the future."

Verrah glanced between the two.

Mama Murphey nodded. "It's the chems. Gives me the power for my Sight. I can see the things that were, things that will be, and even some things that are, right now."

The sole survivor gave a slow nod as Preston sent her an apologetic look.

However, the seer continued. "I've seen you, too. You came out of the ground after a long hibernation."

Verrah's ice blue eyes darted to her. "How—?"

Preston cleared his throat. "Verrah, I do have a question for you. If you don't mind."

While her gaze remained on the elderly woman, she spoke to him. "Shoot."

"I was wondering if you would like to become the new general of the Minutemen. One good thing about being the last of the actual Minutemen, is no one can argue with me if I say you're the new general."

Now, her full attention returned to him. "What?"

He shifted his weight. "After what you did today—helping us, taking charge of the armor and gun, killing the beast—you'd be perfect. We need someone brave and strong like you to lead us."

Verrah about choked on her already dry throat. She was neither brave nor strong. She initially ran from the drake-thing. She had no idea what this wasteland was like. Not to mention, she was never really the leader type. She had always done her own thing. But what did she say to an offer like this?

The hopeful look in Preston's brown eyes made her inwardly sigh. They had just met, and he wanted her to lead his group? How desperate were these people? Then again. Exactly how desperate was this new world? It did seem pretty desperate to her.

"I'm not sure," she finally managed. "I don't see myself being a good fit in that kind of role. I've never led anybody or anything."

"I just watched you go toe-to-toe with a twenty foot tail irradiated lizard. You're telling me you can't keep an open mind after that?"

She went to say something but stopped. He did have a point. Glancing over shoulder, she studied the dead body of the irradiated lizard. She didn't know that she would consider what she did going toe-to-toe with it. More like fleeing and finally killing it before it could kill her.

Her gaze flickered back to the African American. "Are you really sure you want me? Isn't there someone else who's more qualified?"

The questions didn't deter his cheery nature. "From where I'm standing, you're the most qualified person. Look, I know it's a lot to ask. From anyone. We have a lot of rebuilding to do, but we'll get rid of those raiders yet."

Verrah rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. Wanting nothing more to explain that she had just woken up, only to find it was two hundred years later, and she had no idea what to do. She wasn't even sure about finding this Nick Valentine detective.

Preston presented an understanding smile. Placed a hand on her shoulder. He sensed he was overwhelming her, and he wasn't about to drive away the potential he could see she had. "How about this? Until we can settle down more, how about you spread our good name across the Commonwealth? Reassure people that the Minutemen are not a lost cause, as many have come to believe."

The German shepherd finally nosed his way into the group. He whined at Verrah and shoved his head under her hand.

The Vault dweller smiled, petting him.

Mama Murphey appeared to approve. "Mm. I see you have befriended Dogmeat."

The sole survivor rose a brow. " _Dogmeat_?"

"Yes. That's what he goes by. He's his own man, but I have foreseen him traveling with you. He'll make a fine companion."

Verrah smiled again. Ruffled the dog's ears. "Dogmeat it is, then."

Dogmeat barked his appreciation. Tongue flopping out and tail wagging.

Preston shifted his weight once more, hoping for an answer this time. "Would you do us the honor of becoming our general?"

Four other people, who she had originally assumed were Minutemen, approached. They stood on Preston's side. Looked to him for a moment then turned their stares to the white-haired woman. Now that they were up close, they appeared to be refugees, rather than a trained militia.

She took a deep breath. Even though Preston had said he was the last Minuteman, he still used the collective pronouns. He truly believed in the cause, and it was clear how much it meant to him. She didn't think she could disappoint him. Or the other five people. "If it means all I have to do is spread word, I think I can handle that."

His face lit up, and he grabbed her hand, shaking it vigorously. "This is great! You won't regret this, I promise. We just need a place to call home, and we'll be set. That's what we were trying to do when the raiders caught us held up here."

It took her a moment to understand his words after the hand shaking rattled her brain. "Uh, home? Sure. I mean, we can use Sanctuary for all I care." Her eyes suddenly narrowed. "Just leave my house alone."

When all she received was a blank expression, she lightened. Coming up with something to tell them. "I've been there for a bit and already picked out a house. Finders keepers, you know?"

Preston smiled and nodded. "The unfortunate yet necessary ways of the Commonwealth. I understand. It's not a problem. You're coming with us, right?"

"I actually have a mission of my own. Besides, word needs to be spread, right? You all go ahead. Take the power armor and minigun for extra measure." Secretly, she wanted to hoard it all, but she wasn't about to admit that. "My Mr. Handy is there. His name is Codsworth. Tell him I sent you, and he'll be nice."

He clasped arms with her. "Thanks, Verrah. Here, take this laser musket. It used to belong to the previous general. With how valiantly you defended us today, I'm sure he would want you to have it."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, no. There's no way I—" But the sincerity in his eyes gave her pause. She smiled. "I would be honored. Thank you."

After he handed it over, he motioned for the others to get ready to leave. Seeing that someone grabbed the armor and gun. Gave one final grin. "See you soon. Godspeed…general."

Verrah's lips formed a forced smile as she watched him leave. Looked down at the laser musket in her hands.

What did she just get herself into?

She exhaled hard through her nose. Guess she would have to wait and see. For now, more pressing matters…well, mattered. She patted her leg. "Come on, Dogmeat. We gotta reach Diamond City at some point."

The German shepherd happily trotted alongside her.

Mama Murphey suddenly grabbed her arm. "I need to tell you something."

Verrah stopped and turned. Noting that the woman with "Sight" had already allowed the others to go on slightly ahead. "Sure."

"Two weeks ago, I had a vision of you emerging from a big door with three slashes on the front."

She searched the seer. "Vault 111."

The elder's eyes sparkled. "I know you're searching for something. I had another vision before you emerged. You will find what you're looking for."

Her expression changed, and she leaned forward to better hear the raspy voice. "What? When? How? Where?"

"Ah, I must not reveal too much. Besides, the chems have worn off."

The survivor frowned. Convenient. But she passed it off. "You wouldn't happen to have a pencil or pen, would you?"

Mama Murphey's eyes twinkled once more. "I do have a pencil. You'll need it. It's one of the keys to your discovery for your future."

Verrah's brows furrowed, but she took the pencil. "Thanks…" She made sure the older woman caught up with the rest of the group before deciding to continue. Checked on Dogmeat once more. Then headed southeast, further into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

For ten hours, Verrah walked. Traversed across the wasteland with Dogmeat by her side. It may have only been eighteen miles from Concord to Boston, but she stayed off the beaten path, making it twenty miles. Of course, there were the many resting stops. She wasn't in poor shape, but being frozen for all that time took its toll on her muscles.

Now, she sat outside the city of Boston, hidden among rocks. Half of a sunken shack resided in a water channel to her west. She wagered it was roughly six in the morning. Maybe seven. She lifted her Pip-Boy. After eight? She blinked a few times. It had been more than a ten-hour walk, then.

She was thankful the trip had been uneventful. Nothing bothered her as she had crept through the night, and she figured night would be the scary time of the day. Beginners luck, she supposed. But when she reached the edges of Boston, gunshots and laser beams lit up the dark.

When she first emerged from the Vault, all she wanted was to see other people. Anymore, not so much.

She stroked Dogmeat's head for comfort. He had been a loyal companion. She was glad at least one of them knew what they were doing. Had experience in this transfigured wilderness. It was no secret that she planned on keeping the dog. Even if she knew nothing of the German shepherd's previous life events.

Messing with the Pip-Boy once more, she looked up at the sky. The sun had fully risen, but it wasn't as bright as normal. She thought it was the product of nuclear war. Until she realized it was a byproduct of a thin layer of clouds. She leaned back against a rock.

What did she do with her life?

She dug out the sheets of paper from her Vault suit pocket. Unfolded one and stared at the sketch she had made on the back of it. Tightened her ponytail. In rough form, the clawed beast still looked menacing. She added a few more lines. Wrote "what is this?" in the space above its head.

A deep breath escaped her. She could only imagine what other monstrosities awaited her. Too bad she sent the power armor and mini gun with the Minutemen to Sanctuary. She probably should've kept them. However, it would have made her a bigger target. Besides, too late to go back.

Dogmeat whined, tilting his head.

She looked down at him. Rummaged through her holding pack. "This is the last one we have, okay?" Opening the can of Cram, she gave him half and quickly ate her portion. She didn't like Cram before the war, and her opinion of it still hadn't changed. But she already expected to take what she could get out here in the wild.

The shepherd's nose went into the air as a sudden wind whipped Verrah's white and lime green ponytail.

Her ice blue eyes lifted.

Storm clouds rolled in. They were coming in hot.

She shoved the papers in the pack so the pencil wouldn't smear. Slipped the straps around her shoulders. "If we're gonna go, now would be the time."

Dogmeat rose with her, eager to travel again.

The Vault dweller gathered her determination. Examined her pistol. If it did rain, better be safe than sorry. She placed it in her pack. No sense in risking the integrity of the gun. She did have her wrench. And, boy, did her right leg hurt after lugging it twenty miles.

By the time she managed to drag herself onto the broken road, the sound of distant thunder echoed. She grabbed the straps of her pack and checked over her shoulder. "Stay close, Dogmeat."

He gave a quick bark. Ears vigilant and head high.

They didn't even travel a thousand feet when they had to clamber over a billboard that had fallen across the pavement. Which didn't prove too difficult for the wandering pair.

Verrah kept an eye on the shepherd to see if he alerted as they continued skirting Boston. She kept the channel to their right. In case an emergency bail was needed.

She still couldn't get over the amount of abandoned vehicles. Most of which were crashed. Her nostrils flared. She concentrated on the road ahead to keep her mind from wandering too far. How many people had died? Did any side truly win with this much casualty?

A crossroad pulled her out of her thoughts. Reviewing the map on the Pip-Boy, she glanced at the darkening sky. She needed to go further south. It seemed the bridge to her right would take her there.

Lights on a wrecked barge underneath the bridge made her pause. Lights normally meant people. She crouched. Reached back until she found her pistol. Crept closer along the walls of the bridge. But she wasn't paying attention downward.

There suddenly wasn't any bridge under her left foot. She started sliding, eyes wide. Her breath caught as she kept herself from crying out. Perceived enough to grab hold of exposed wire mesh.

Dogmeat clamped down on her Holding Pack. Whimpered. He wasn't letting go, even if that meant he would fall after her.

Verrah did her best to remain calm. She dangled from the rebar mesh, and the wrench felt like a lead weight. Her arm stretched to the max. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Focused. She wasn't in a deadly situation yet.

Her eyes opened. She threw the 10MM back up onto the bridge. Rolled over and grabbed on with free hand.

Luckily, Dogmeat knew to release when she twisted.

She found the German shepherd. Kept her thoughts on him as she pulled herself on the bridge. Comforted by the fact that he had taken hold of her sleeve, still refusing to let loose until she was completely safe.

Verrah crawled on hands and knees a few paces before collapsing to her stomach. Letting out a long-awaited gasp. Yeah, she may have fell in the water, but who knew what was underneath the surface with the barge wreckage.

"What was that?" a voice called.

Thunder answered her first.

Another voice responded. "See? It's the storm. The Jet is making you jittery."

A third, stronger voice called out. "Let's get inside before it rains. Don't want my power armor any rustier than it already is."

The sole survivor's eyes widened. So there were at least three enemies down there, and one of them had power armor? Even if she survived the fall into the water, she wouldn't have survived them. Not with her two pistols. She chastised herself for not being better prepared.

Well…she did have the hunting rifle. Which she hardly had any ammo for and was saving for bigger opponents. There was also the laser rifle. Or would it be considered a laser musket since it was given to her by the Minutemen?

She chuckled to herself. Regardless, there was no sense in making enemies when she could avoid them altogether. Assuming she could sneak past them this time without falling through the bridge. Because she wasn't sure if her self-healing was a permanent ability or not.

Chills ran down her spine. She was sure her "gift" was Vault-Tec's doing. If she couldn't—and probably wouldn't—find her parents, she would look deeper into Vault-Tec and their experiments. No, she'd look into them either way.

A soft rain tapped the earth.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the pistol and slipped across the bridge. Noting how differently the wet earth smelled than her days before cryo freezing. She loved the smell of the ground during the rain. But this, this smelled off.

Rust permeated the air. Not that she wasn't used to the smell of rust, but there was so much of it, it was nauseating. All the wood reeked worse than rotten trees she had cut down for neighbors. Not to mention the water from the canal wafted up. It stank of toxicity.

She threw a glance at it, wondering what was truly in it. Death? Decay? Fallout? Whatever it was, it was disgusting. She was even more thankful she didn't go for an unintended swim.

The Cram wasn't sitting well in her stomach.

Further into the heart of the city wasn't much better. The rain poured at this point. Buildings and piles of debris groaned under the weight of the rain. Everything causing the rancid smells were in much closer proximity. However, she did enjoy the sound of the pattering of the water drops as they hit what they could.

Yet, the sensory overload threatened to overwhelm her. Her eyes flitted among the barren buildings. Doing her best to remain occupied. A hand still went to her stomach. She checked on Dogmeat. He seemed fine. Most likely, it wasn't as pungent to him as it was to her fresh nose.

The German shepherd suddenly perked up. Trotted ahead.

"Hey," Verrah called. The visibility wasn't very far, and she didn't want to lose her only guide. Then she saw it, spray painted in white: "Diamond City." An equally white arrow pointed down an alleyway.

Because that didn't seem suspicious at all.

Her pace slowed, gun in both hands, off to her right side. Maybe Diamond City wasn't the grand spectacle she thought it would be. She pressed her back against the corner wall of the alley. Peeked around.

Down the street was a turret and a trio of guards in…catcher's uniforms? She eyed them. They didn't seem particularly hostile, but she couldn't fully see them. Not that it meant anything, anyway.

A traveler passed by them without trouble, leading a two-headed cow.

Verrah retreated back around the corner. For some reason, a dual-headed bovine freaked her out more than she ever thought it would. It was like she was living in some post-apocalyptic B-rated horror film. She slowly looked around again.

The traveler and mutant cow headed her way.

Doing her best to look natural, she nodded at the human when the abnormal pair ambled by. Though she inwardly cringed at the pinkish-brown flesh and hideously enlarged utters. Noticed the cow was nothing more than a pack animal with various crates and provisions tied to its back.

One of the heads turned to view her, but it seemed uninterested.

Her attention was drawn to dog running ahead again. "Seriously, Dogmeat?" She hurried after him. Stopped short at the three guards.

They kept an eye on her, but they didn't seem particularly interested in the newcomer, either.

Verrah flicked her ponytail over her shoulder, sending a spray of drops that melted with the rest of the rain. She wanted to do her best to not stick out like a sore thumb. Which was nearly impossible, as she was the most brightly colored person. And surely the most awkward.

She felt so naked. Though, she supposed she could've nabbed armor off the raiders. But the protective coverings had been on dead bodies. Well. The Pip-Boy and Holding Pack did come off a skeleton. But the head of Vault 111 deserved to have his tech stolen.

Shaking her head, she went to the shepherd, who sat on the other side of the turret. Those guards had no idea how grateful she was to pass the turret and not be torn to shreds by a barrage of rounds. She had never seen one of the MKs in action, but she did not doubt their firepower. Especially at close range.

She patted Dogmeat's head. Followed him to the front of the old stadium. Smirked. That statue of the baseball still stood. Which player it represented, she couldn't say. While she occasionally watched baseball with her dad, automobile racing was her sport.

Two more of the padded guards strolled by. Snickered to each other.

"Looks like Piper finally got herself kicked out."

"Yeah. She accused the mayor of being a Synth."

"Seriously?"

"Don't you read the papers?"

"Not recently. But if I was mayor, I would've done the same."

Verrah observed them as they went about their business, blending into the gray color of the rain. What was a Synth? Synthetic? Synthetic what? Well, the mayor was accused of being one, apparently. Synthetic human? Like an android?

Her gaze wandered to a woman in red leather bending over to what appeared to be a speaker. So if the woman—who she assumed was Piper—accused the mayor of being a Synth and consequently got herself kicked out, did that make Synths bad? Or was the mayor that intolerable? Both was also a good option.

Dogmeat looked up, waiting to be directed.

Taking a deep breath, Verrah began forward once more.

Piper made various arm gestures. "Come on, Danny. Let me in. How many time we gotta go over this?"

A voice came on the speaker. "Sorry, Piper, Mayor McDonough has been explicit about the orders against you."

"It's raining, for Pete's sakes!"

"Sorry."

Throwing her hands into the air, she paced a small circle. Noticed the Vault Dweller. Straightened and crossed her arms.

The gleam in the woman's eyes made Verrah shift uncomfortably. That kind of look only spelled trouble. And she only knew this because she had conveyed the same look multiple times.


	7. Chapter 7

A slow grin spread across the reporter's face. She shifted her weight, cocking one hip. Threw a suspicious glance at the speaker. "Give me just a moment, Danny. My friend is here."

There was a pause. "Friend? Piper? Piper, what friend?"

Piper approached Verrah, still smiling from ear to ear. Took the other woman off to the side. "Look, I need to get back in the city. Obviously, you need in there, too. So let's work together. I'll tell them you're a trader with supplies. We'll both get in, and well, voila."

Verrah blinked a few times. In surprise at the other's boldness, even if she was in a red leather trench coat, and to get the rain off her eyelashes. "You…you want me to lie?"

"Ah, come on, Blue. Don't you have any supplies?"

"For myself—"

"There ya go, then." Linking arms with the Vault Dweller, Piper all but dragged her back to the speaker. "Danny, I'd like for you to meet my friend, Blue. She's a trader with some supplies. She wants to visit our little market. You wanna let her in?"

The voice cackled back on. "Piper, I swear. If this is another one of your nonexistent friends, Mayor McDonough will have my head."

Verrah slightly grunted when she received a nudge in the side. She inhaled sharply. While it may be okay for reporters to lie, the concept didn't sit well in her stomach. Especially to people she had never met before. "I am real. And I do…have supplies."

 _For myself_ , she mentally added.

More silence.

Piper nudged her again. Motioned with her head to the speaker.

"Blue" inwardly sighed. She hated doing this. She could get away with saying she had supplies, because, technically, she did. However, she wasn't too comfortable saying anything that would be a blatant lie. Her head suddenly titled. "I'm also skilled in mechanics, metal-working, and machinery."

There was a muffled voice in the background. Wherever Danny originated from. A hushed conversation ensued.

The gate guard's voice returned. "Very well. Mayor McDonough has allowed you both entrance. However, he wants to have a word with you, Piper."

The reporter rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"Thank you," Verrah chimed in. Not eager to get on anyone's bad side here. Lest she be thrown out as well.

After another moment of silence, a metallic crack echoed with the thunder. Followed by a low yet potent whir. The metal gate jerked out then lifted up and back.

Verrah watched with wide eyes, but she tried not to look too impressed. Though she was sure it was still obvious she was out of place. Her nostrils flared. A nudge from Dogmeat made her feel better. She subconsciously patted his head.

Two men waited just inside the stadium. One with gray hair and a brown suit and another with ginger hair and umpire gear. Various other armed guards milled about the entry corridor, only interested in potential threats.

The suited man stepped forward. "My name is Mayor McDonough. Welcome."

The sole survivor shook it. "Verrah." She studied the man. He didn't seem like an android. Or, Synth, rather. His skin felt like skin. His face looked normal. His eyes twinkled, despite his age. Sure, he held the expression of a politician, but he appeared normal, nonetheless.

"I apologize for the closed gate. We're normally open to visitors, but we've had some recent issues with our media outlet."

Crossing her arms, Piper shifted her weight. "Freedom of the press, McDonough. And you locking me out only further proves my theory."

The mayor looked exasperated. "How many times must we go through this? You wrote that article based off me eating a bowl of noodles at Takashi's. I know you're aware of Diamond City's history. And that's precisely why I was forced to shut you out. I don't need my city in a state of panic. It was nothing more than a simple show of force. That I can keep our people safe from any potential threats."

She stared long and hard at the mayor. However, no words escaped her lips.

Verrah glanced between the two. Turned to the guard who she assumed was Danny.

He merely shrugged and shook his head.

McDonough sighed. "I'll let you back in if you promise to drop this whole Synth business. All you're doing is scaring people, and they're already paranoid enough as it is."

Piper's stance only broadened. "You cannot stop me from digging up the truth."

"Fine, fine. Just return to your…establishment and find something else to occupy your time and articles."

She walked off to the side, but she didn't leave.

Verrah noticed. It was like the reporter lurked for anything that would give her a leak.

The mayor gave his attention back to the newcomer. "I see you're not actually a trader. I've never seen one wear a fancy Vault suit. However, I want you to know you're still welcome in Diamond City."

She gave a sheepish grin. "I really do have skills in mechanics and metal-working. And robotics. If there's any way I can help, let me know." She wondered if she should throw in a detail about the return of the Minutemen, but she decided to leave it alone for now.

He smiled. "That's greatly appreciated. And I'm sorry you had to be caught up in all of this. Please make yourself at home. If you need anything, you can always contact me or my secretary. I hope you find Diamond City to your liking."

The Vault Dweller inclined her head. "Thank you. Your kindness is greatly appreciated."

This seemed to please the mayor as he straightened his suit jacket and escorted Danny back to the gate guard office.

Verrah gave a nod. Deftly avoided eye contact with the still-loitering reporter. She patted Dogmeat so he knew to follow her. Pretending not to realize Piper was still there. Strode toward the baseball field's entrance tunnel and—

"Wait up, Blue." Piper linked arms with the other woman again. "I think you need to stop by my office. I have an idea for an article that I think you would be perfect for."

It took everything she had not to let out a groan. She hated being interviewed. Every single time she had done something nice for the community before the war, they wanted to write an article on her. Why they kept making her the local hero, she had no idea. People were just supposed to be nice to other people, weren't they? There was no need to put her on a pedestal for it.

"What do you say, Blue?"

Verrah finally sighed. "Fine. But no lies, got it? I cannot stand lying nor do I appreciate others lying about me behind my back. I broke a girl's arm for doing that when I was in middle school."

Piper waved a hand. "No need to worry. Publick Occurrences only publishes the truth. I'll prove McDonough is a Synth yet. You'll see." She led her new subject and muse up the ramp leading to concrete stairs.

The sole survivor couldn't help but hold her breath as they ascended. Sure, baseball hadn't been her sport, but she attended a couple of games with her father. She knew what this placed looked like in its prime. Not to mention the shock of her old world plunged in fallout hadn't worn off yet.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Piper paused. Glancing at her companion to gauge her reaction.

Verrah's ice blue eyes widened.

The stadium had been turned into what she could only describe as a shanty town. Metal and wood structures were stacked on top of each other. Stringed lights and neon shone brightly in the rain, which had slowed to a drizzle. In the center of the diamond rose a huge tower pouring out thick smoke. She assumed it was a generator of some kind with all the wires running to it.

Piper pulled her down the added metal stairs and ramp. "The office awaits."

Verrah dumbly allowed herself to be dragged along, taking in the sites of the hand-built city. Her gaze followed the arrows next to the sign painted with "Mayor." It appeared additional housing had been constructed in the upper stands, and the mayor resided in the box office suites.

"Well, come on, Blue. You can explore later. Paper first."

The Vault Dweller followed to the first building on the left. Which was obviously home for the paper, as "Publick Occurrences" was a large, proud sign. The green letters resembling an Irish pub font. Her eyebrows slightly lifted when they entered.

Inside was as bland as the makeshift town outside. No drywall, no paint. Sheets of corrugated metal served as the walls. There was no décor. Hardly any insulation.

Piper held out her arms before spinning and plopping herself on a deteriorated, yellow sofa. "Welcome to our home, sweet home."

One of her white brows fully rose. "Our?"

"Yeah. My little sister, Nat, lives with me. She's a good kid, and she helps with the paper. I have her interrogating residents right now."

Verrah shook her head. "You have your younger sister interrogating people?"

Piper grinned. "Of course. Who's gonna lie to a kid? But let's get down to business, shall we?"

"First off, I have a question. What's with calling me 'Blue'?"

"Isn't it obvious? Your Vault suit. I don't think I've ever seen one that pristine. Between that, your Pip-Boy, and that 'fish out of water' look, I'd say you're fresh out of whatever Vault you climbed out of, too."

Dogmeat shook the water off himself and yawned. He found a place next to an old newspaper stand, circled multiple times. Finally plopped himself next to it with a sigh.

Verrah sighed and sat on the edge of a short side table with a single drawer, keeping her eyes on the ground. "That bad, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, Blue. So. What's it like after emerging from 200 years?"

Her eyes shot up. "How do you know about that?"

"Word travels fast in the Commonwealth."

Verrah gave a glare off to the side. "Codsworth…."

Piper procured a pen and miniature notepad from inside her coat pocket. "Seriously, though, I need a statement for the piece. What's your first impression of the new world?"

She offered a smile. "It's great."

"Come on. You're the one that emphasized telling the truth."

The Vault Dweller's gaze returned to the floor. Which was made out of pallets, now that she really looked at it. At least, this particular section. "Honestly? Well...everything and everyone is so different. You're all living in rusty shacks, killing each other, and my gosh, the smell is terrible." She sighed. "I know it's because I'm not used to it. It's something I'm struggling with."

The reporter jotted down some notes. "No, I understand. We come from two different worlds. How did you manage to stay alive for 200 years without turning into a ghoul?"

She assumed a ghoul was a form of ghost or spirit. "Cryogenic freezing." The fire returned to her eyes. "I was part of an experiment. The whole Vault was. They promised us a home, a new life. They gave us death. I was the only one to survive the Vault. I'm not sure why. But when I woke up, everyone I knew was dead. Save for me."

Piper lifted her stare from more scribbling. "Geez, Bl—Verrah, I'm sorry."

Verrah shrugged. "Can't change the past."

"What brought you to Diamond City?"

"I'm looking for people who were taken from me. I have no proof they're alive, but I also don't have evidence they're dead. They're missing; I intend to find some trace of them."

Piper paused. "You know, the people of Diamond City have a lot of missing people. From what I've heard, this place used to be flooded with imposters. Now, no one bats an eye."

Verrah tilted her head. "What changed?"

"People's attitudes, I guess. Everyone knows the Institute is behind all the disappearances. They love to come in the night, snatching people. Sometimes replacing them with Synths. No one knows why. Experiments, maybe? Kicks and giggles. Someone's sick form of entertainment. Who knows?"

"Geez, indeed. I've never heard of the Institute, though. I don't think they were around before the Great War, and if they were, they were good at hiding."

It was Piper's turn to shrug. "Regardless, it's a real threat. Many have come to terms with the fact they'll never see their family again. That's why they've given up." Rising, she stretched. "I guess that's all for now. Don't want to bombard you too much."

Which Verrah was immensely thankful for. She pushed herself off the end table.

"Oh, can I get one last statement from you? One for Diamond City? I want them to have an outsider's perspective on what it means to have a loved one go missing."

The Sole Survivor took a deep breath. Subconsciously stood with the determination she wanted to get across. "No matter how much you want to give up, don't. You have to have hope. That you'll see them again. Or, at least, that you'll know the truth."

Piper smiled as she scribbled the sentences down. "Thanks. I think the people will really enjoy this. You'll be an inspiration to them all."

She laughed. "Right. Oh, hey, random question. Does a Nick Valentine live in this town?"

"Nicky? Yeah. His office isn't too far from here. Go out my main door, turn to your immediate left. There's a path that will take you behind all the vendors, if you want to avoid them. You'll come to a path turning right, and his place is on the left. Hard to miss the neon."

Verrah woke Dogmeat up from his nap on the floor. "Thanks."

Piper shifted her weight. "You, uh, want some company? Human company, that is? I can document your travels for all the Commonwealth to read."

She chuckled as she opened the door. "I appreciate your offer, but I think Diamond City needs you more. You gotta prove Mayor McDonough is a Synth." A thought crossed her mind, and she stopped. "Actually, if you want a story, travel to Sanctuary. The Minutemen are reforming. I kinda happen to be their general."

Her eyes widened as she shook her head. "Wow. Not out for that long and already getting involved in the factions. But yeah, I'll go check it out."

"Cool. So I guess I'll see you around, Red."

"Red?"

Verrah paused again. "Your coat. It's red. And it suits your passion for truth. I do expect an article when I get back." Grinning, she stepped out.

Piper blinked. "Huh." Then the same smile overcame her as when she first met the Sole Survivor. "Good luck, Blue."


	8. Chapter 8

Verrah breathed deep as she prepared for her meeting with the detective. Instantly regretted inhaling such a large amount of wet fallout smells. She didn't know if she would ever get used to it, though she was sure she would. Eventually. Sometime. Maybe.

She shook her head, going to her left as Piper instructed. What would she say to this Nick Valentine? Hi, I'm from the past, and I want to find my parents, who have no hope of being alive, even though I am twenty four? Or, hey, I just woke up from cryo sleep and have no idea how to function in this world; can you help?

Her nostrils flared. She was truly hopeless.

Dogmeat nudged her hand and looked up with a flopped out tongue.

Smiling, she stroked his coarse fur. Came to a street sign labeled as "Third." Underneath, was neon displaying "Detective." Her eyes moved to the right before her feet did.

A somewhat tunnel formed from more corrugated metal and a…camper. Was that seriously a camper? Whatever worked in a scavenging time, she guessed. But a faint, pink glow caught her attention.

Cautious steps moved her down the dark alley. The leftover drizzle hanging in the air as a mist. She tightened her dripping ponytail. Studied the new sign.

Pulsing neon shaped a heart with an arrow through it. And the words "Valentine Detective Agency." A metal arrow to the left of the sign pointed toward a short corridor leading to the door.

She returned her gaze to the neon. This was stupid. She was stupid. The guy was most likely full of himself. Or had serious cases to solve, at the very least. He wouldn't have time for her. He'd laugh at her, and she wouldn't blame him. She didn't even have any money. Who would take a helpless cause for no money?

Obviously, there was only one thing to do.

Turn around and forget about this endeavor.

Dogmeat trotted up to the door of the agency and barked.

Verrah waved her hands. "No. Be quiet. We're leaving."

The shepherd barked again in response.

"No. Dogmeat, no."

More barking.

Before she could reprimand him further, the door opened. She held her breath.

A middle-aged woman stepped out. Dressed in a tattered floral skirt, jean vest, and scarf. She acknowledged the dog then turned to the Vault Dweller. "May I help you?"

Verrah blinked. "I, uh, well. Maybe? I'm looking for a Detective Valentine?" She awkwardly pointed to the neon. "I found it, I guess."

The lady held out an arm into the open doorway. "Yes, come inside. You can warm up and dry off. I'm Ellie Perkins, Nick's secretary."

She gave a nod and entered. "I'm Verrah. This is Dogmeat." Her eyes surveyed the small space. Desks, filing cabinets, a cigarette machine…cinder blocks? She blinked a few times. Nothing declared that the detective was full of himself.

Then again, she didn't know if there was anything in this new world that would allow anyone to truly decorate the way they wanted. On the other hand, if there was a will, there was a way. If people could build a tin city inside a dilapidated stadium, a detective could make his office as proud as he, if he desired.

Perhaps, this Valentine wouldn't be as horrible to work with as she originally anticipated.

Ellie sat behind the desk facing the door. "Have a seat. What can we help you with?"

The Sole Survivor fidgeted. Trying to come up with a story that wouldn't be considered lying. "My parents left a little while ago," more like a _long_ time ago, "and I haven't heard from them. I'm afraid they might be dead. I just want proof of what happened to them, at the very least."

The secretary nodded as she took a few notes. "Sounds like a missing person's case. We're very familiar with those. In fact, Nick is currently working a possible kidnapping. Though, he's been gone longer than usual. I worry about him sometimes. He attracts danger like a magnet."

"I do have to be honest about one thing. I don't have any money to pay you with."

Ellie lifted her head. "Oh, your settlement uses pre-war money? Well, we use caps."

Verrah pretended to understand, though she still didn't know what types of caps were used. Baseball caps? Bottle caps? Fuel caps? Ammunition caps? There were so many types of caps. "Of course. Well…I still don't have payment. You know what, I can't allow you guys to perform a service for me without getting paid." Running her hands down her thighs, she pushed herself up. "I'm sorry I wasted your time."

She rose as well, eyeing the holding pack and wrench. "Let me ask you a question. How well can you handle yourself?"

Pausing, her ice blue eyes traveled to Dogmeat, who sat by the desk. "Pretty well, I suppose. I've made it this far."

"There's been rumors the Triggermen gang has Nick held up at the Park Street Station. If you can bring him back, that will be more than enough for payment. Nick gets in over his head all the time. One of his traits. Will you at least see if you can help him?"

"The Triggermen gang?" Verrah searched the floor before redirecting her focus to the other woman. "They shouldn't be too much of a problem. I'll go to the station and see if Detective Valentine is there."

Ellie sighed in relief. "Thank you. No one else I've asked has had the courage to go. And you can just call him Nick. He's not much on formalities."

The Vault Dweller smiled with more bravado than she suddenly felt. "It's not a problem. And thank you for listening to me. I'll see what I can do."

The secretary saw her out with an encouraging "good luck."

Verrah kept her positive expression until she made the right out of the small corridor. Dropped the smile. There had to be a reason no one else volunteered. She exhaled a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

This was going to be fun.

She rolled her eyes at her sarcasm.

Instead of taking the back way behind the vendors, she walked through the center of the marketplace. There were stands for weapons, armor, food, and other general services. Since the rain had stopped, many of the employees stood in front of their stations, calling out their wares.

Verrah smiled to herself. They sounded like the hot dog and beverage vendors at the old games. She wondered if anyone knew how to still play baseball. It was more fun to play than watch. Maybe she could teach them if they didn't remember. Not that she remembered all of the exact rules, but she knew enough to make a game out of it.

However, before she could crusade the past, she needed to identify the present. She kept a keen eye on the payment or trading system. What kind of caps were used? It drove her nuts.

She eventually moved to the center of the marketplace. Which boasted an establishment called "Power Noodles." So, that tower really was a power station. Her attention shifted when a patron sat on one of the stools.  
A faded protectron sporting a chef's hat lumbered over. Its monotone voice cackling. "Nan-ni shimasho-ka?"

The customer waved a lazy hand. "The usual." He placed a handful of caps on the counter, and the protectron provided a fresh bowl of noodles.

Verrah gave a slow nod. Bottle caps it was, then. Her eyes widened. She had found bottle caps on a raider. It all made sense now. So she had some currency. She just needed to figure out the value system. Though it most likely varied from seller to seller.

Once the noodle customer finished, she approached the counter and leaned against it. At home more with the robot than the few people she interacted with.

The protectron marched in place until it faced her. "Nan-ni shimasho-ka?"

Her brows knitted. She didn't speak any Asian languages, but there was an underlying code she detected. Barely there. Another language. The robot's own language. She just needed to listen closely. "Come again?"

"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?" _(What are we having today?)_

"Oh, I don't have caps for noodles. I was wondering if you could give me directions."

"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?" _(Directions to where?)_

She studied the mechanical chef. "You repeat the same phrase? What happened to your dialogue?"

"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?" _(A human tampered with my voice module.)_

"Has anyone tried to fix it?"

"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?" _(Yes, but they failed.)_

Her face creased with concern. "Oh. Well, I could take a look at it. Your style of voice modulator isn't complex, and your programming should be relatively simple."

The protectron kept itself busy by stirring a large pot of noodles. "Nan-ni shimasho-ka." _(Mayor McDonough prefers me this way.)_

Now a brow rose. "Really? Huh. That seems odd. Anyway, can you tell me where Park Street Station is?"

"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?" _(Northeast of here.)_

"Okay, cool. Thanks. You've been really helpful."

"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?" _(I am Takahashi. Come again.)_

A smile overcame her as she shook his free appendage. "Nice to meet you, Takahashi. I'm Verrah. I'll definitely come again. You're an awesome protectron. See ya around." With a small wave, she patted her left leg. Signaling Dogmeat to follow.

The shepherd gave a happy bark and followed with a wagging tail.

Verrah decided to give her right leg a break from her wrench and slung the large tool over her shoulder. Receiving glances from the various guards. Not that she minded. She was leaving Diamond City, anyway.

Her nostrils flared. Triggermen. Most likely, they were trigger happy. And she only had a 10MM pistol. Sure, she had survived one bullet, but how would she stand against many? She was literally going to walk in on a gang, hopefully saving a detective she had never met. Assuming said detective was in the station. And alive.

If only she had a friend to tell this ridiculous story to.

Piper.

Maybe she should've had the reporter come along with her, after all. Extra bodies would be nice when facing multiple enemies.

She paused at the top of the concrete stairs. Looked over her shoulder. Yeah. She needed to get Piper. Quick trots carried her back to Publick Occurrences. Then she rapped on the door.

Diamond City's reporter poked her head out. "Oh, hey, Blue. What can I do for ya?"

Verrah rocked back and forth on her toes. "I kinda agreed to rescue Detective Valentine from the Triggermen at Park Street Station. And, I think I'm going to need help."

Piper grinned. "I'm in."

"What about the article?"

"Nat can handle it. I already typed it out."

Her ice blue eyes widened. "Wow."

"Yep. News shouldn't have to wait on account of me being a slow writer. Let's get going." She stepped out and headed toward the city's exit. "This is gonna be great."

Verrah jogged to catch up to her. Waiting until they left the stadium to check her Pip-Boy for its compass. "Takahashi told me it's northeast of here."

Piper abruptly halted. "You can understand Takahashi?"


End file.
